PS 3521 

i.E415 

'P6 

1903 

Copy 1 



^^ 



I^GEMi) 



BV 



N P. KELLEY, 

(Copyright 190S') 



paiOE 25c. 



In 

Not 'i, ^ ^ 



LIBRARY of congress] 
Two Copies Received 

JAN 9 1904 

Copyright Entry 
CLASS ^ ^ ]:xc. No. 
^ COPY 3 



I 3 C - 



Although 'tis not an easv task 
: To write in language terse, 

Impulsive more the thought conveyed 

Clothed fn poetic verse. 
The moral rectitude of man 

I setk not to invade; 
I would not write a single rhyme, 

My conscience v/ould upbraid. 
That I should write in polished verse, 

Why not if I know how? 
I borrow not of others gems, 

I Pluck not front their brow. 
Should r m^ talent hide in shame 

Because Kentucky bred? 
By sister States in wealth and pride 

Meekly she's humbly led. 
' Should I my fondest hopes subdue, 

When'er the impulse thrills. 
Because my countrys chiefest claims 

Are rugged arid hills? 
Depart from me such wanton thoughts 

Polute not thou my dreams; 
The paltry dollar matces not brain 

Blinded thine eyes of beams. 
God has endowed the mind of man 

In its illustrious health, 
Not subject unto statehood pride, 

Nor subject unto wealth. 



'I POEMS BY N. P, KELLEY. 

Asunder let those fetters burst 

Of this my native clime, 
r fondly love this dear old State 

And next F love to rhyme. 
I ask inspection of my book 

Although 'tis very small, 
Within its unpretentious lids 

My fame shall rise or fall. 

]Sr. P. Kelley. 



My Egotism^ 

I am a country poet, 

Unknown as yet to fame, 
But if I fail to make my mark, 

The press will be to blame. 
When'er I write a rhyme that's good, 

Somehow they fail to know it. 
They base their judgment on the fact 

I rank not as a poet. 
But if the press will be more kind 

And give me just a chance, 
Excuse my egotistic words 

I know I would advance. 
I feel the impulse in my heart. 

The talent in my brain, 
I have the courage still to try 

Not yet will I refrain. 
Between the hours of rural toil 

I often weild my pen. 
And coursing through my finite vems, 

I feel a grea-ness then. 



FOEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. 6 

Though I shoald fail to reach the m";:k 

That oth.ers have gone by 
WheD*er I find a space tbat's blank 

l*il make a rhyme or try. 

I give you this that you may know 

I truly am a poet; 
If no one else will blow my horn 

It shall be blown, l-'H blow it. 



The Fartner, 

The farmer, though a man of to' ^ 

Is mighty independent; 
He has his hog and hominy 

With other things resplendent. 
He breathes the early morning air^ 

He finds it pure and fresh; 
The exercise he's bound to take 

Produces solid flesh. 

And when he mounts ras noble mule 

And rides it into town, 
The beauties of the hyacinth 

Are of much less renown. 

Hut when he cuts the biggest dash 

Is when he's in the city; 
The tinge he gives to country life 

Looks almost like a pity. 
He wears a heavy country boot 

Perchance run down at heel 
x\nd every time he moves a foot 

Tempestous is the peal. 



4 POEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. 

Not satisfied with such display, 

He's bound to have some jin; 
And when he*s loaded right for bear 

He takes the city in. 
He simply throws his ruslic head 

Behind his gravitation ; 
The biggest things to do and say 

Are just his calculation. 
You have to watch for No. one, 

Or take the risk and woe; 
No human means can calculate 

Which way that man will to go. 
He poses as a man ot means, 

Much learning doth he quote 
About the things he's seen and heard 

And how that men should vote. 
He laughs,he stamps, he looks and acts 

In ways most awful queer, 
I'm glad that I'm one of that class, 

Lest I should quake with fear. 

My Shade Tree. 

Stately art thou majestic oak. 

Impaired not yet by years; 
Nor is thy life i-i thralldom placed 

By winds to come nor fears. 
And thou from a single acorn 

Sprang long years back, I know 
And the eyes thine image first im- 
pressed, 

Are pe^ishsd long ago. 



POEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. 5 

Behold tho changes time hast wrought 

liut tbou art favored stiil, 
With lite, with health and vjgor, 

Xo fears of heat nor chill. 

Uoeonscious thou thy beauty, 
Though filled with life thy veins, 

Dame uature hast bestowed on thee 
An extra touch of pains. 

If thou in some distant forest 

Was secretly hidden away, 
Destroy, id not then thy grandeur. 

But lessened alone in display. 

True that thy grandeur once each year 

Falls to thy mother earth, 
But every spring that roils its round. 

Renews thy lire, thy birth. 

Thy nature seems so strange to muse 
I scarce know how to guess, 

In wintertime thou goest bare, 
In summer time full dressed. 

Although I like thy habit, 

A joy it is to me, 
In winter time I pass thee by 

But now I stop, yon see. 

Precission marks thine every bough, 
As though for comfort made^ 

Besides a beauty to t>ehold, 
Refreshing is thy shade. 



6 POEMS BY N. P, KELLEY. 

- liove, 

Love is a boundless attribute, 

In human hearts endowed; 
A vital chord in hope serene. 

Established and avow d . 
Love is to man a precious boon, 

Ordained by Him above; 
Existing not on earth alone, 

For God Himself is love. 
Love is the source from whence we reap 

Profoundest joys of earth; 
It takes its exit not till death. 

Its advent is at birth. 
Stronger e*en than man himself, 

Vibrations rise and flow; 
The impulse thrills or breaks a heart 

Ere mortal man may know; 
Its sacred imprints kept apace 

From to the present date 
Baek to the a^e of fallen man, 

When guileless Adam ate. 
Benighted he by suasive love, 

Though knowledge forced of sin; 
In gratitude lets praise the Lord, 

Love reigns supreme within. 



Home. 

A place for birth, a place to dwell. 
And when we come to die, 

There is on earth no better place 
To say our last good-bye. 



POEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. 7 

Uaeqiialed thought of earthly joy, 

Where'i-r we be or roam, 
To hear the sacred word pronounced 

Though humble, it is home. 
The sanctity of human life 

Within its pales encouched, 
A kingdom unto each of us 

By law securely vouched. 
Parental cares and hopes entwine 

Around its sheltering dome, 
There is on earth no piace to us 

As near and dear as home. 
The glowing fireside reflects. 

Home comforts deep inlaid, 
Maternal joy, paternal pride, 

Tne precious pratling babe. 
No earthly power a theme so dear. 

With pen nor brdsk can paint 
A home where love supremely reigns, 

A sanctum to the saint. 



The Sauctity of Rural Life, 

We feel at home with our bacon and 
beans, 
And our brogan country boots. 
But what we don't like is the upturned 
nose. 
When we peddle in town our fruits. 

W^e know that our brawny hands are 
rough, 
For they've guided the honest plow. 



8 POEMS BY N. P, KELLEY. 

But in Heaven above where all is love 

Ordained is the sweat of the brow. 
Our maids are less fair for lack of care 

But truly as pure withiu. 
External adornment, incipient lust, 

The pater and mater of sin . 
We know but little in grandeur's realms 
But we don't need to know any more 
For Its not the outer appearance that 
counts, 

But its what li«s next to the core. 



Poetic Requisites. 

The greatest science in any one thing 

Is keeping your readers in doubt, 
As to what you think from what you 



Or what you are saying about. 
The adage,though old,yet remembered, 

That poets are born, not made, 
Has blighted the future of many a lad. 

Because he was sore afraid. 
Like a man on earth just tell what 
you know 

And then don't fail to quit, 
Be saving of paper, pencil or ink 

And waste not even your wit. 
You must possess a delicate taste. 

Know much of grammatical rule. 
And then if you fail to make a success 

Perhaps you had better teach school. 



POEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. 9 

The Poet. 

Erom the eJirilestdai.n of penmanghlp 

Down to the present time, 
By what has she mind been isiore 
iri spired. 

Than a righteous or moral rhjme. 
From the earliest dawn o^ poets 

Dawn to the present day, 
Who caused your thoughts to ecme 
*Dd go, 

And your mind to rock and swav? 
Who wrote those tender lullabies? 

Sang in th« days of yore? 
That spoke to you a mother's ioTe, 

You hear on earth no more? 
Who wrote those soul inspirinjf ^ongB? 

We sung to God in praipe? 
Wo linked thos^ precious, rapturous 
thoughts? 

That hallow here our days? 
It was the giant poet. 

\¥ho with his mighty pe.o, 
He bmds en earth mankind to God 

Aud man aod man to men . 



A Tribute In Memor> of My 
Motb^-r. 

My mothers love and anxious care 
Demand in thanks reflection, 

Although to me that boon has fiown, 
Siiye but in recolh ctioD. 



10 POEMS BY N. P, KELLEY. 

Had it been made in human power, 

To send regrets a bove. 
Fain would I send this tribute up, 

Her loss to me her love 

When I was but a helpless child 

Her greatest earthly joy, 
And yet oft was I rude m speech, 

A naughty truant boy. 

But since I've grown to be a man, 
Those sins they give me pain, 
Unchanging is all records past, 

Else would 1 yet refrain. 



My Boys. 

My boys are a source to me 

Of constant bliss and joy, 
Although they seek a childlike freak. 

My time to quite employ . 

They crown me with most all their love 

For scarce know they another. 
Their every want must be supplied 

Without the aid of mother. 
They want a knife, a bat, a ball, 

They want a littered floor. 
And when there's nothing left to want 

They want to want still more. 
They ask me questions of all kinds, 

Their minds can warp and weave, 
I am compelled to answer them, 

Or pull up stakes and leave. 



POEM« BY N. P. KELLEY. 11 

They tear their clothes on every nail 
That sticks out in their way, 

And laugh like 'twere but funny, 
That 1 have the cost to pay. 

They meddle with moat everything 
That comes within their sight 

And when there is naught else to do, 
They then get mad and fight. 

But when they are in bed asleep, 

So quiet a& if mice, 
I'm thankful to the Lord that they 

Both are so sweet and nice, 



We Marry the Chauce. 

Dear madam I hope you will pardon 
my vows, 

When my love for you I disclose, 
Dejected, despondent, despairing am 1 

Till you of the subject dispose. 

I now have concluded to offer my 

heart, 
And to ask your hand in return, 
However, surprised at my boldnoss, 
dear. 
My offer I hope you'll not spurn. 
Dear sir, your pardon is granted, 

Although I am feeling quite vexed, 
No pleasures are born of a doubting, 
For the wits are unstrung and per- 
plexed. 



12 POEMS BY xS . P, KELLiiY. 

Tia true indeed, you surprise me, 

That you would such liberties take 
Although your cas9 is not hopeleps sir 
If my other enguKement should 
break. 
The policy, sir of a lady, 

Is unlike that of a man. 
We makt it a point to marry the 
chance. 
Then love bim well then if we can . 
♦ 

Finite. 

I have eoouji^of solitude 

Almost to make a book, 
And yet I see that pathos reigns 

Where'er mine eyes may look 
No mortal is with joys replete 

Without and pure within 
Contentment is a jewel rare 

With no besetting sin 
Yet muoh we love our being here 

As you by nature know . 
Though oft we feel the thorn in flesh 

That brings us stinging woe- 
The toys of earth glide swiftly past 

Despairing creatures cry, 
For mercy aad redemption by, 

Oiir majesty on hi^h* 

Then grant O god we oome to the, 

In humble contrite prayer 
Though scarce we find of earthly joy 

Of heaven mav we share, 



POEMS BY N. p. KELLEY. 16 

What W<- Need. 

A class ot men that don t Mke tolie^ 
In thought, in act or in deed, 

Would improve our morals a needed 
reform. 
A supply we most woefully need. 

A class of men that will not lie, 
Neither in spirit nor letter, 

Though geographically miles apart, 
Is a class we could use much better. 

The next and the last a single man. 

That never told a lie. 
When you have searched thi>s earth in 
vain, 

Look up to Christ on high. 

Though vastly wide our universe, 
Wherein proclaimed religion.. 

How strange ahuming is the tsict 
Not one but lacks precison. 

Yain might we shed remorseless tears, 

To reach that ciime above. 
But for this great redeeming grace. 

God's pitty and His lo^e. 



A LessoD From Birds. 

I love to watch the pretty birds. 

As from bough to bough they flit, 
How strangely active are their lives, 

Though small must be their wit. 



14 POEMS BY N. r, KELLEY. 

If man had action equal to 

Compared to them in mind, 
Alone misfortune would bring want, 

The poor house scarce to find. 
Although they reap where not they've 

sown, 
Their nature's like to brothers; 

They waste no time o'er selfish seeds 
But sows each one for others. 
And this, a precious lesson is, 

'Though we to know demand it, 
If scarce they ever fuss at all, 

We fail to understand it. 
If domineering man were changed, 

In nature like to birds, 
The stork of want would take its flight 

With music blessed our words. 



DonH Try to be Too Genteel. 

Some people are laxy and some like 
to work 
And some want to be genteel. 
So far as I'm concerned, 
By nature l*ve learned 

It depends upon how I feel. 
Some people are honest and 3ome are 
unjust 
And some people sometimes will 
steal. 
While others you know 
Just to must make a big show 
Want to look and act genteel. 



POEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. 15 

*Tis said that actions speak Jouder 
thari words, 

Bv this you may Know how I fe«l, 
So far AS Tm concerned, 
Long since have I learned, 

Don't try to be too genteel, 

Man. 

Man is but an earthly atom, 

Like a spectre on the globe, 
And beyond the Tdil immortal, 

Ne'er can finite wisdom probe. 
And while in his stage of action, 

Driftiujg; down the scenes of time, 
Ofi is pierced by «ore temptation, 

Though his thoughts how'cr sublime. 
Life is real aot a dreaming. 

Here his deeds will doom his fate, 
Gild with good each fleetiug moment, 

Ere thine hopei should be too late. 
Cherish not vain hopes immortal, 

Built as castles in the air. 
If yoiir heart from god is wanderiog. 

Though }oarlips may lisp a prayer, 
lieckon not that god will bless you, 

In the bright celestial day, 
If your heart knew but rebelian. 

To your maker and his way. 
Cherish not the vile presumption, 

Taht the God of boundless love, 
E'er will bless and crown a sinner 

In the heavens high abo^e. 



13 POEMS BY N. P, KELLEY. 

We are bat dependent creatures, 
Oh, the great unchanging Lord, 

Lost in dark and vile perdition, 
If we can not claim reward. 



Nature's I^aw. 

God has decreed to things on earthy 

To every living creature, 
A law and then a penalty, 

Profound, the law of nature. 

Adherents to its mandates blessed 

In every earthly thing 
Tians verse then comes unerring fate, 

The asp ne'er fails to sting. 

Conceited man thy hiding place 
Between the earth and azure 

Is not concealed from nature's God 
Kor from the God of nature. 

Then bow thy knee to nature's law. 
Accept Its tendered blessing, 

Provoke not ills unto your life, 
Whereof to die regretting. 



Hope 

Through many long years l have 
wandered, 
Ami^ life's struggling scenes. 
With hopes past llown or" contingent, 

Tpon some future careens. 



POEMvS BY N. P. KELLEY. 17 

I trow that the av^erage vista 

Of others have been just the same, 
That hapi iness experimental 

ts false in all. but the name. 
God in His infinite wisdom 

Has so tempered man in the mind* 
That he lives m the hope of expectance 

Though little on earth he may find. 

Fireside Reflections. 

1 like the cozj fireside, 

On chill and wintry nights, 
Sei'eneet moments of my life. 

In phantom^s pure delight, 
Aly children snug in bed a sleep, 

My thoughts are all my own, 
In solitude 1 pass the hours, 

For then am 1 alone. 
To me a pleasure that 1 wield, 

My pen in making rhyme, 
A solace in the lonesome hours, 

That helps pass off the time. 



When I Wa8 a Boy 

When I was a boy 

Oft leaped I with joy. 
In hopes that would cheer me when 

older. 
But since I'm a man, 

Try hard as I can. 
Those hopes are not iiiled 

And less bolder. 



18 POEMS BY N. P, KELLEY. 

Perchance there are such, 

Who hopes for so much, 
Of this world's goods audits pleasures 

They scarcl^ may know. 
The weal from the Vvoe, 

Or tvhat is the unit of measures. 

Not hopeless till yet, 

Though oft have I met, 
Enchantments to me a misgiving, 

l^m thankful to-daj^ 
To Gud I can pray, 

And too, that L am still living. 



The Grogshop. 

A. Grogshop is a walking curse, 

A foe to Grod and m.in. 
A needless stigma born and bred. 

A fiend to make and damn. 

The crimual courts are filled with 
crimes, 

Distilled from groghop's ale. 
Although a curse 'tis legalized, 

W e can not stop its sale. 

If neither contending party will 
make 
For us an interposition, 
We'd better lay down our partisan 
views. 
And vote for Prohibition. 



POEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. 19 

Compassion 

'Tis wiDterand the oight is stilJ, 

Save but the moaning vind, 
As pieroeing is riach chilliDi( blast. 
A As though for battle fioned, 
How much in prayers, how much in 

alms, 
To feed aiid comfort those 

Who stand a wretched helpless pre3% 
When wiiiter winds do blow. 
Who oan expect the grace of God 

To com tort and to bless 
U8 in a selfish cozy home 

And neighbors froze to death. 
Vaia popes, vain prayers, when self 
alor.e 

Is all we see in need 
Redeniption yet must thoa attain 

Or else thy spirit bleed. 
Companion is a noble trait, 

But alais must lend it grace, 
Redeeming good not leased to man, 

Save in his finite race. 



Mother. 

Deep seated are the ties of love 
That bind us to a brother, 

More sacred still the laipulse thrills 
In tender love for mother. 

From infancy down to the grave 
We ne'r can find another, 



20 POEMS BY N. P, KELLEY, 

Although a sot forsaken n©t 
By her wh^ is your mother, 

Then let us sing in anthems loud 
Her praises altogether, 

In memory's shrine our hearts entwine 
In gratitude to mother. 



The Upper Ten. 

When*eryou would flant or swell up 

and giant. 
Among the proudest of men. 
Don't take offense, but you needn't 

have sense, 
To move in the upper ten. 

What'er they may do, its useless to 

shoo, 
For they wield the press and the p^n, 
You can buy out disgrace and 

slander efface, 
If you live in the upper ten. 

No matter how meanly disposed to be 
If the pocket books swelled fit to 
bust. 
No matter how low the ancestry is 
If the gold is laid up to rust 

^ 

Decipher. 
In phrasiology 

Lets perambulate. 
In contradistinction 
To liking and hate. 



POEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. 21 

Ethereal grarduer 

C3nsorlous pat^ 
Confused and confounded. 

Is liking and hate. 
Coherent cohesive, 

ConjuuL ed with fate; 
If j'king and hatred 

Wou^d not separate. 
Adjust your glasses, 

Give this a crlt'que, 
Then each of these verses 
. Independently sjieak 



Habit. 

Don't contract a habit of nibbing 

At what you cannot digest, 
Nor bite off more than you're able to 
chew, 

Both plans are unwise, not best. 
There p-re many kinds of habiisknown 

And those of which are vile 
When you cater to the practice of 

Your wits vvill they beguile. 
That habit is a naughty thing, 

You cannot help but lenrn it, 
For after >ou have fed it well 

*Tis mighty hard to spurn it 

That habit is a growing vice^ 

ru tell you more about it; 
1*11 tell you how it makes you love 

And then you cannot doubt it. 



22 FORMS BY N. ?, KELLEY. 

You go to see your girl rnce, twice, 
Next time, you make it thrible; 

First thing you know your mouth is full 
On whet you meant to nibble. 

Of course you'll quit, I know you will, 
The least of your intention; 

Your wish may tell you to resolve, 
But that is apt prevention. 

In this we find that habit is 

A mighty ugly notion, 
For now the trade's completely made^ 

Though scant be your devotion. 

To those not bound to smiles and paint 
Don't try to solve the riddle; 

Touch not, taste not, ot unclean things 
In Cupid's realms, don't nibble. 

IToiiiig^ FoIk8 Society. 

Every giri should have a beau, 

And every beau a lover; 
But then, for fear you might get left, 

ToiiM better ask your mother. 

The boys now are hard to please 

Among the little Misses, 
Before he knows much love to talk 

He's begging hard for kisses. 

The girls are mighty tempting to, 
Aad powertul aggravating, 

To grant the boon her lover seeks, 
She's just b^^nn miinly waiting. 



POE-yiS BY N. P. KELLEY. Z3 

A boy these days that is not fresh, 
He looks like scbali potatoes. 

And is expected to get mad 
Unless bis sweetheart caters. 

To heal his wounded, bleedihg heart 
She fain would be his mother, 

When lo, an imprint marks his cheek. 
As though he were a brother. 

There never more need be a doubt, 
Let Bot your sigh be heavip.g. 

The blame for all this kissing ''bis" 

Runs mighty close to even. 



Adamantiiie. 

Tis Sunday ana I'm ail alon*-, 

S«ve my two little children, 
In solitude and loneliness 

From day to day we're driven . 
Kemorseless seem oar future hopes, 

Yet we with patience wait, 
Bedecked in gloom our humble home, 

Though kinder may yet be fate. 
No joy on earth but seems to havf^. 

Some near or distant foe, 
No tranquil hour vouched safe to us, 

In sacredness from woe. 



Had I lilsteued to My MotHer. 

We have loved and w» have parted, 
vVe are earthly friends no more; 

Yet I pray that God will bless me 
Far beyond this sin cursed shorp. 



24 POEMS BY N. P, KKLLET. 

I have loved you, dearly loved you, 
More than pen or tongue could tell, 

By the which you worked the ruin 
Of your helpless, precious Nell. 

Had 1 listeied to my mother 
Who in tears ta me did say, 

That alone you sought my ruin, 
I would honored be to day. 

Ne'er was mortal lass found puer 
Till you led my heart astray; 

Now I'm left disgraced, forsaken, 
TiU the dreadful judgment day. 

You have proved a fiendish traitor; 

Yet the demons yov may know, 
You are but a vi'e seducer, 

Now I say fore^^er go. 

Go in vain deceitful pretense. 
Feign to be an harmless swell; 

Mark the stigma in youi conscience, 
Ruined now your precious Nell. 



Whisky. 

We know th%t whisky is a curse, 

When to excess it's used, 
While many other things are wrong, 

It's often moie abused. 

There is a saying very true, 
The fact we can not trump. 

That what is in a sober man, 
Comes out when'er he's drunk. 



POEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. 25 

Now if the evii acts of men, 

Wait for intoxication, 
We'd betier stop its traffic, 

Then, it's entire distiiiatiou . 

— ^ ,,... - 

Treacherous Man In tbe Twi- 
light, 

In the t^vilight of the evening, 

As 1 pen my thoughts to jon, 
I am burdened by devoted love 

Ail others I eschew. 
And at midnight in my slumbers, 

Fain v\ouid I dream you'd catch 
Just the impulse of my fervor, 

Then I'm sure we'd make a match. 
Like the twilight or the morning, 

That the sun beams clear to-day, 
Will you honor my devotioi , love? 

And drive the mist a^ay? 
Then at noontide we'll be happy, 

In our cozy cottage home. 
And until I lind a sweeter dear, 

My thoughts no more shall roam. 

^^ — _ 

The Siindaj Ba?-*^ Ball Ganu . 

Tbe ebb of religion is low enough now 
We need not be puiliag it down; 

Deplorable, ah! vicious that Sunday 
ball game, 
In country, city and tovvn. 

For every effort put forth to improve 
The morals in our righteous ranks, 



26 POEMS BY N. F, KKLLEY. 



Some evil inyented to gore it, yes, 
Either abreast or in fiauke. 

Enlightment ought to elevate men, 
Intelligence prompt this decisaion; 

Netarious that base ball Sunday game 
*TiB b'jit to God a derision. 

When we have been spared six days of 
the v/eelt, 

On Sunday why can't we refrain? 
One-seventh of life in gratitude spend 

To honor^and cherisjh His name. 



Temptation. 

Temptation and its attributes, 

Our greatest earthly foe, 
i$9 unremitting tscort brings 

Us unrelenting woe. 

Perverted by its subtle guil«, 

Partake we then of sin, 
When stigmatized and conscience 
seared, 

The falJ of man begins. 

The fiend has won the victory aow, 

Farewell to righteous joys, 
Tt^e tempter in his mighty povrer 

Feedf? daily and decoys. 

.Fa.tQ would we as a ransom give, 

This world, ah, e'tn more, 
If when the wily tempter called 

We had but closed the door. 



POKMS BY N. P. KELLEY, 27 

Domestic. 

In tbis I*li give >oa some uccouth 
rhymes, 

Though Ifaii ehort ot tame, 
ril write you concerning socae unlike 
thicgb, 

That aound alike in aaiTte. 
The first I wouM Tancure to meniioa- 

A pegt about the house, 
1V» what the chiidren bring from 
school 

An energetic lout^e. 
The second, a moit pugnacious pet. 

And sore it WQrriea me, 
A crimnal thirit for human blood, 

The hopping monster, flea. 
The next, a vile obtrusive thing, 

Lo, on the bed, the bug, 
It throws its arm« about your aeck 

To bite instead of hug. 
Now all auch things we could aroid 

By the paiBs to just be nice, 
And to, by proper diiligeaoe 

Could catch up 'M the mice, 
I do not hope to win your lo?a. 

Nor even get a thank, 
Because your faults arw here portrayed 

In language very frank. 
I would not make the women m^d. 

Nor help undo their wisht^s, 
But this again I never liked. 

Was half W8?hed, half dr?ed df«hes. 



28 POEMS BY N. P, KELLEY. 

Now every time you m&ke your bread 
Iq tray don^t leave some dough, 

For that is good for nothing but 
Some colored fly to blow. 

Now if you find in this a truth, 
For better will you try» 

At least don*t hurl the epithet 

That I have told a lie. 

"' •• ' ^ ' ■«— < ' 

Winter. 

The snow comes down in its crystal 
flakes, 
And it whitens the time worn earth. 
Oh I winter,thou art heeded as though 
a kmg 
Whence came thy chilling birth. 
Thine advent is watched by the rich 
and the poor, 
By the high and the low ot state, 
Alike thou dost go to friend and to foe 
For a bidding why dost thou not 
wait? 
With ways unrelenting and wretched, 

Unwelcome at every door. 
Whoever but thou was so heartless 
As to punish the helpless poor? 
Thy nature is boldness and sneaking, 

The mission wherever you go 
Is to tender a frozen reception, 

W^hlch often is painted with snow. 
If you,d like to have friends to adore 
thee, 



POEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. 29 

And praises to fall from each mouth 
You'd better take wings and de- 
parture 
And drift to a clime fartbei soatb. 



13eep In the Forest. 

Deep> deep in the forest^ 

Are gym bole gay, 
Of petals and rosee, 

In nature's array 
Thy zepbries are laden. 

Of fragrance »o eweet^ 
That fain would we hallow. 

Thy hidden retreat^ 
Where varied plumage, 

Of birds in deligbt. 
Are warbling their soiuiet?. 

From morning 'till night. 

And deep in the brambles. 

Of the mystic grove. 
In nature's freedom, 

The wild beast rd^e. 

In €oiitude, lonelj; 

In reviriegav. 
Celestials paintingd, 

Art thoxi dii^p^HV, 
Babliniity paints thee 

la vanity fair, 
If sin and corrGplion 

Have not entered thei^. 



30 POEMS BY N. P, KELLEY. 

Lisp, forest, and tell me, 

How canst thou forfgo 
Thy grandeur and beauty^ 

To men, sin and woe. 
Whenrthou art invaded 

Now this do we pray, 
Thy birds and thy flowers. 

With us let them stay. 
Of others thy grandeurs, 

li thou canst but wean, 
Leave us in remembrance, 

Of this our esteem. 

Tlie Higrh Tone Mule 

The mule is best sitited to heary 
farm work 
Like the darkey, he's tricky in town 
And no good at all for the circus 

ring 
Because he might kick the clow^n. 
The wiser plan to size up a mule, 

Is by your imagination: 
For like the feminine beauty in paint 

He won't bear inyestigatinn. 
That the mule is wise an(} your wits 
may surprise, 
We derive it from this conclusiou, 
You may whip him in front till his 
growth you doth stunt, 
But he won't bear a rear intrusion. 



POEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. ol 

In tbis he is like a high toued mjiu. 
That cares not for threats nor 
front fighting, 

But what it don't like is a sneak a foe 
A vile a malicious backbiting. 



Wlieii't^r i l>reani of Fitukw* 

Meekly I wrar the farmer's name, 

An humble life I lead; 
I till the soil, I hoe the corn. 

And watch the coming weed. 

I have no wealth of which to hoasr, 
Althongh Tm not in need; 

I live upon Kentucky soil, 
And on its products feed. 

Financial ea8e, while not I've known, 

The blessing: do I greet, 
When'er by toil and trugalcare 

The belt and buckle n>eet. 

Success in gain I cannot boast. 

Reflections ail upbraid. 
For more than h::iU I now posse.^s. 

By me was heired not made. 

A failure in financial worth, 

To me a burning shame, 
Although my hcjpes do brighter gru\f 

When'er I dream ot lame. 



32 POEMS BY N. P, KELLEY* 

Tobacco. 

It occurs now to me, 

From what I can see, 
That times get no better fast. 

For everything's high 
That a man has- to buy, 

While tobacco sells now like the past 
The market bade fair, 

Our wrongs to repair, 
Tor tobacco was bent on a rise^ 

But up sprang the trust 
With threats to bust 

And gave us a shocking surprise, 
in ample time 

They all fell in line 
The market was settled and done; 

Small buyers were chased. 
And an average placed 

On a basis of four and one. 
Some tobacco got hot, 

And some was hail shot 
The rest was too short or too long; 

If the color was bright, the bodv too 
light, 

And if dark there were some other 
wrong. 
The only thing now 

Is this I trow, 
That's left for the farmer to do. 

To sell what he can 
To the big trust man, 

The remainder to twist md nnd chf»w. 



POEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. S8 



Oiir Faults. 

That I baTe faults it ia revealed, ^ 

Tfeat you have faults, I know, 
Be luindful of your glass at home. 

Always before you throw. 
A man who po968 as a saint. 

His lips dispensing slander, 
it is but a vUe malicious sneak, 

Ot <?emo9s made commander . 
I>ont Hdvertiseyour neighbors faults 

Insr.eHd; confess your own, 
When'er the secret is oxposed. 

You have as bad at homo* 
Now if thlQe house of glass is buit, 

Thiijfi heart to slanders prone, 
Le?.t thou be made a wrt^tch undone, 
Oarit nol ihe fatal stone. 

Dojit manufacture ^^ossip, vile, 
Dont leii tales on jour neighbor; 

Just rectify the wrongs at home, 
Go then to honest labor, 
Dont say you think that he is mean, 

Dont try to be so wise, 
Bont try to steal tshat you have not 

By tell laie tattling lies, 
■ ■-.-- ^ .. . . ^. - 
A Drunkard's l>ream. 
I started on a single dram, 

My t hirst it called for more. 
I 300P explored the druukard^s 
realms, 
In drinks and drams galora. 



;M POEMS BY N. P, KELLEY. 

A dream, a fitful dream in life, 

An arrant fiendish shame; 
I w®oed and won her gentle heart 

And then disgraced her name. 
My Marry waa a faithful wife, 

A loving mother, too; 
I lived within a Paradise, 

Till 1 a drunkard grew. 
I scorned her love in accents bold 

Entreaties made me worse, 
The Joyful greetings of my babes. 

Inclined to make me curse. 
The demons fed my soul in sin, 

I lost my wealth and pride, 
My children went to charity 

Broke' hearted Mary died. 
I woke but ah! it was too late, 

A pit, a dismal cell, 
The echo to a drunkard's life 

A frig^htful burning hell. 



Supposition. 

If supposition were a fact 

In real life existing 
Henceforth weM have a busy time 
Those tangled thoughts untwistinec 

A guess by far is apt to miss, 
Both by tl\e aged and youth, 



POEMS BY N. P. KELLF.Y. 35 

Likewise some folks would sooner 
lie 
Than tell the honest truth- 
At least if that I now suppose, 

Suppose Fm not mistaken, 
And if I should suppose a fact, 
Why should 3^our faith be shaken? 

Some things to start are just sup, 
posed, 
Left ^>ff is supposition, 
Behold the lie His now complete. 

Go tell it in derision, 

• ^ • 

All AddiH^ss To Tlie Moon. 

Burst forth, O moon thy golden 
rays 

Eemind us most of day. 
Awake the solitude of night, 

liium?^ the traveler's way, 

While countless ages roil its rounds 
There is but Thee that can, 

The shining rays of hidden Sol, 
Steal and reflect to man. 

In worlds above, in worlds beyond 

Be numbers great or few, 
There's none but Thou whose 
smiling face, 

Adorns our midnight dew, 



36 POEMS BY N. P, KELLEY. 

We yearn f«r thy translucent light 

We ne^er would say good bye, 
But when with Sol Thou to (Tost 
hide, 
^Tistben. O moon we sigh. 
Look down, wilt thou, amazine^ 
orb, 
At night and pity man, 
Catch and reflect tra nepar en ta rays 

As often as you can, 
Bemind us then, resplendent moon 

In thoughts and visions nigh; 
A brighter light than Sol or thou, 
Lives, reigns, and rules on 
Hijrh. 



Mother Wit. 

With mother wit do not confound, 
What we derive by culture, 

Nor tempt the supercilious dude, 
Of rivjils to make vulture. 

Most every mind some wisdom has 

Great or a little bit, * 
And in the class of commoners, 

Oft IS displayed much wit. 
The sense a man may seem to have 

Depends on circumstances; 
Look not alone at what he's done, 

But see what's been hisehancew. 



POEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. oi 

No man is wise in everything, 
But should be in his callings 

The famous Jack at all the trades, 
Is famous but for falling. 

The lawyer little knows of drugs, 

He's built to cheat and jaw: 
To find wherein you have been 
wronged- 
And legalize the flaw. 
Vice versa then the Doctor is; 

A man not skilled in law, 
But by the science of his skill, 

To medicate your flaw. 
Your neighbors business let alone 

Dont try to be his colonel: 
The lawyer rights your outside 
wrongs, 

The doctor works internal. 

— ^ 

Divorcement. 

The laws profane in this domain 

Are retrograding fast; 
The solemn ties of nuptial vows, 

A thing most of the past, 
A court wherein no suit at law 

To break the marriage vow. 
Would imp the ghastly spectre 

Oi a two horned muiy cow. 
Almost before the honeymoon 

Deciiues to show hor face. 



:)b POEMS BY N. P, KELLEY. 

There's not enough of real love 
Left to make one embrace. 

Desertion pJa} s a nimble part 

Or use some cruel shame, 
Is photographed and naagnifled 

To be the real blame. 

The wisdom of the judge perplexed, 

His solemn obligation, 
No longer is a theme in doubt, 

He grants the separation. 
There s something wrong about the 
law, 

Oi else with man or wife, 
Or else the sacred nuptial vovvs 

Would live as long as life. 
Adultery is the Bible grounds 

For marriage separation; 
Thje causes added thereunto 

is man's adulteration^ 

IMsdaiii Not the Farm. 

Scorn not to be a farmer's boy, 

Shirk not your daily toil; 
Abe Lincoln was a product of 

Our common country soil. 

He disdained not the plow to guide, 
Perchance did handle pails, 

And won a worthy sobriquet 
By splitting many rails. 

So you should not be angry when 
The cattle low for corn; 



POEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. 39 

Xor when your good old father calls 

You up at early morn« 
When little Sis gets in jour way 

Be angry not and smack 'er: 
Nor grumble when the backache 
comes 

From setting out toback'er, 
Kemember that philosophy, 

Su|i[)lies us many needs; 
Bar. that it will not make your crop 

To outgrow coming weeds, 
IvP member that success. depends 

Upon your manly grit. 
And on a combination made 

Of eibow grease and wit. 
Nosv when your rural district school 

Ro] is 'round you must attend, 
And make the power of your mind 

Vv'iih strength of body blend^ 

And when you take your girl to church 

You listen to the preacher, 
And after you have been dismissed, 

You may presume to teach'er. 
Just say to her an honest man 

Cares not to sweat his brow 
And that those cares were l3ss to you 

If sweating for a frow. 
Remind her that ahe*s growing old, 

While you are in your prime, 
And that in farm and school- room 
work 

You-ve utilized your time. 



40 POEMS BY N. P, KELLEY. 



EemiciCi her of her toiiy whea 
She scorns a farmer*^ boy, 

i^or wisdom's confirmation makes 
The fact a lasting joy. 



The Mirror, 

The mirror to the-hand^sofue las3 

A source of satisfaction. 
To her not bleesed or facial charms 

A bauefiil sore distraction. 
If minors b Jt exposed to view 

The charms or miad and heart. 
Then might the handsome lass take 
wings, 

And from the glass depart. 

In tbis we have a iessou brief* 

Trust not the waotoo eye, 
A scrutinizing view within, 

We should not fail to trj. 
External charms no index are 

To what may lie within, 
Beauty may hide from eye of maa 

A !..ultitade of sin. 
Pretty is as pretty does, 

An axiom we should heed, 
Though we admire the damsel fair, 

The vittuea ail should lead. 

Oouteiitiueut. 

J like? to write an innoreot rhvme. 



P0KM8 BY N. P. KELLEY. 41 

It it pleases my fmndsi and neis:h- 
bors: 
For if I but cheer but one locei? heart 
it requites me for iny labors. 

The cJtt?8 to which I if as rt^^a^red to 

belong, 
And the class I belong tv* y^i^ 
la not a thorD in the flesh to me, 
Nor do I complain nor regret. 

Life is but made of human events, 

Of cure and a future hope, 
To reach the goal i« that heavenly 
ciirae. 

No longer in rlarkneae to grope- 

We nhouid not envy our feJlow ms»ii, 
Invite not, indulge not m strife; 

The stage of action is here too shorr, 
To waste that much of life. 

This resolution should characterize 
Each day of our life that is spent, 

When'er our lot ia the best we coul3 
make, 
To therewith Uq contest. 



Morals. 

There was a time ot old 

In our country's record bold. 
When we hfid noiir.aay vices todeplore 



POl^^MS liY N, P, KELLEY* 



But alas, those times have (^hanged 
And our morals all deranged, 

For the population now is vastly 
more. 

There was a time a treat, 

When a neighbor ne'er was beat. 
Unknown to us was joeky, fraud or 
loss, 
But the explanation's this. 
That Simon, Tom nor Oris, 

Happened then to hnve no trading 
mul^ nor horf=!e. 
Too, the whisky tn^ffics grown 

And its vices wildly flown 
O'er a country once in morals good I 
trow, 
Then our dear old Uncle Sam 
That his coffers he might cram 

Laid the tax that made the drunk- 
ards since till now^ 

Yes, our maidens then were sweet, 

And had honor just to beat 
All the socks from ofl a serpent's bra- 
zen eye; 
But theyVe since been hugged 80 
much, 
Both in English and in Dutch, 

That an armless man no more can 
reach the pie. 



POEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. 4o 

Too Late. 

In the lomeeome etilly night, 

\vhen the etars were shining bright 
Dou't forget the kiss jou gave me at 
the gate. 
In tlie years of long ago, 
"VVe were lovers then you know. 
But the wedding day seemed destin- 
ed unto fate> 
You caressed my lips, mv brow. 

When you made the solemn vow 
Thai in years to eonae you'd be my 
loving wite; 
Long enough I now have run 
Seeking worlds of silly fun, 
lam ready now to settle down in \\i^^ 

I regret, kind sir, to know 

That 7our folly led you so. 
And the tears I shed upon that wed- 
ding day; 
Now 1 can not crown your lite 
For I am another's wife, 

And my heart from you has wan- 
dered far awaye 

In the tomesome stilly night, 
It wa8 righteo is in my sight. 

That 1 fondly did caress jou at the 
gate; 
When you catch your sweetheart 



4-A P0KM8 BY N. P, KSLLKY. 

right, 
Do not take a silly fiight, 

Lest you settle down alone in lit© 
to wait. 

Suppo»itiou, 

If supposition were a fact, 

In real life existing 
Heocetortb we'd have a buey time, 

Those tangled thoughts untwisting. 
A guess by far is apt to iiiisB, 

Both by the eged and youth, 
Likewise some folks would sooner He, 

Thau tell the houest truth. 
At least if that I now suppose. 

Suppose I'm not mistaken. 
And if I should suppose a fact, 

Why should your faith be shaken? 
Some things to start are |ust supposed 

Left off is supposition; 
Behold the lie, 'tis now complete, 

Go tell it in derison. 



Either Mex. 
Let the lower lights be burnings 

Love, when*er you think of me; 
For your vows of fttJae devotion, 

I have clearly learned to see. 
Though you*ve wronged me, yet I 



POEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. 45 

Oft I*m forced to sore regret, 
Since to me you* ve proved falsehearted 
That we ever should have met. 

You have blighted every prospect 
Each you made by wilful guile; 

Too perchance you'll read my sorrow 
With a cold and wicked smile. 

Still there is one coosolation. 

Though jQU never shed a tear, 
I with you would not change places, 

I in conscience am your peer. 

RECONSIDERED. 

It a:ffords me a source of pleasure now 
That my love you no longer fetter; 

We are prone to change from bad to 
good 
When we like the new one better. 

1 confess to you now my stupidity 
when 
I believed every lie that you told, 
But sinet^ I stand free and unfettered 
to you, 
I'm feeliDg both saucy and bold* 

I have carefully studied your nature 
to learn, 
And 1 find it don't have the right 

And if you were my last prospect to 
wed 
Dear Madam, or Sir, I'd stay single. 



46 POEMS BY N. P, KELLEY. 

The WiBclom of Man is Transitory 

While drifting down the steepB of time 

Upon this rugged earth; 
How raried here man*B joys and ills 

From death ba«k to hts birtb. 

No finite mind can penetrate 
The future's mystic r(^alm; 

No human means upon this earth 
To make a future helm. 

Conceited thou in pomp and pride, 

A rain deluded creature; 
A ship at sea without a course, 

If man alone wag teacher. 
The present holds the record past, 

Our future life unknown; 
The final destinj of ma.n 

Is as in life he*s sovv^ii. 
We hare an omnipresent guide 

Of whom to learn and know 
That wisdom is a fickle thought 

In man while her© below. 
l^j thought he cannot change his height 

Nor does he mold his face; 
Nor can his wisdom save his soul 

Withoi;t God's love and grace. 

Censorious* 

Now if you will listen 

rii tell jou, or try, 
Some men I don't like, 

A lid the reason for why. 



POEMS BY N, P. KELLEY. 47 

J don't like a farmer, 

In his rags and hi? dirt, 
And the ambeer in torents 

He's given to squirt, 
1 dorrt like a lawyer 

Beeeiiee he looks wise, 
And charges his client 

For nothing but linee , 
I don't like a doctor. 

Except when I*in sick, 
Aad then I am anxious 

To hare him come quick , 
I don't like a banker, 

JSTor will I relent; 
fie*d run you to Guinea 

For fifteen per cent. 
I don't like a miller 

No more than a mole; 
He longs tor your Rack 

To finish his toll. 
I don*! like a dru^giet. 

Not even hla pa; 
He charges for water 

Bu t calls It aqua. 
That 1 don't like a merchant 

Tm surely devout, 
For when he is booking 

Tm always in doubt. 
If I doa*t like & preacher 

You*U never kn5w why; 
If you don't like to gue«s 

You nead aot to trv. 



48 POr.MS BY N. P, KELLEY. 



If jou will but notice 

•Tis plain for to see 
The people that I like 

Are those that like me. 
And this is the moral 

Of vanitys glee; 
I'll tickle yon, 

If you 11 tickle me. 



My liiograpliy. 

Among the praises here b«*lovv, 

Ascribed unto m? name, 
I proudly pen because I know 

It ranks me hi^h in fame. 
I was born among Kentucky hills, 

The tirst of children, nine, 
My father was an honest man, 

My mother was sublime. 
Sometimes my father taught a school, 

Sometimes he practiced law; 
Sometimes he farmed and found 
wherein 

His son contained a flaw. 
My early days in country schools, 

I spent with books and slate 
And wandered why that antique rules 

Sh^mld puzzle so my pate. 
I never liked to work at all, 

Xot much did I like school; 
In summertime it was too hot, 

In winter time too cool. 



POEMS BY N. P; KELLEY. 49 

I baffled all the skill put forth, 

To make me love to work, 
And when I grew to be a man 

1 was a science shirk. 
A financier of ill repute, 

And this will serve to show it, 
Wheii*er I earned one hundred cents 

I found some plac« to blow it. 
There then never was of boys like me 

But rew 1 feel to know it. 
And this the reason that I give 

Fur why I am a poet. 



My Mother's Picture. 

Amid the scenes upon the wall. 
Of this, my humble home; # 

My mother's picture thrills my heart 
The most of all I own, 

My ghostly dreams in midnight hours, 

My noonday joy and mirth; 
Blend and bow down before her shrine 

From whence my infant birth . 
Although from earth she's long since 
flown, 

Her picture when I see 
Calls forth a sigh from out my heart. 

Maternal love for me. 
Unbroken faith vibrates my breast 

When I those features trace; 
Kextto immortal bliss, her love 

Ethereal her embrace. 



^0 POEMS BY N. P, KELLEY. 

And when I kiss that picture, dear, 

My heart does overflow 
In thanks and gratitude to her, 

Kecause she loved me so. 
Look down, wilt thou? dear mother, 
from 

Thy home in heaven above, 
And soothe the spirit of thy son 

For thy departed lo^e. 



My Reforiuation, 
I'm, wanting whisky very bad, 

My boys needing breeches, 
I know which of thr two to buy, 

Thou fiend my thirst bewitches. 
I know that both I now could buy 

But Inter they might need it; 
I know that whisky is a curse 

Then why should I not heed it 

If I such wisdom do posses 
That thirst I should not nurture 

Then grant oh God that I refrain 
Grant thou to me that virture 

Those lines above I wrote and quit 

The vinous virous drink 
Although it may not quell your thirst 

I hope you'll read and think. 
Some months ago I was a slave 

To whisky *8 vain delusions; 
And dear to me the lesson was 

Before the right conchisions, 



POEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. 51 

I did resoive and am absolved, 

Far from the baneful habit 
Ana every time it comes in rhyme, 

My pen shall surely stab it. 
The curse it came in contact with 

The vtrel fare of my children, 
A charge that God gave unto me. 

My joys from v^rhence driren. 
It leaves no imps of sin untouched, 

It bars your avocation, 
It is a curse at home, abroad, 

And unto self damnation. 

Redeem your mother*s fondest hooes, 

Your loving wite embrace; 
The prattling cherubs at your feet, 

liedeem from vile disgrace. 
Turn then your mind and heart toGod 

Your yote to Prohibition; 
The monster curse will then take flight 

As by its own volition. 
A curse so easy to forestall, 

Ourselvea we can't excuse; 
We fought for that from England^s 
crown. 

To drunkards we refuse. 
We watch the drunkard stagger by, 

His wretched greeting cheer; 
We feel that if we miss his doom. 

We have jaught else to fear. 
Christ died, not for Himself to save, 

But that we might be heirs, 



52 POEMS BY N. P, KELLEY. 

And yet we scarce the drunkard*s fate, 
Revolt in contrita prayers . 

In prayers and alms we should unite, 
To change his dismal creed; 

Christ died, not for our sins alone, 
The Cross for drunkards bleeds. 



SACRED. 

THE TEN COMMANDMENTS 

REMEMBER THE SABAT>T DAY TO 
KEEP IT HOLYf 

The Sabath was in Jewish times 

Kept unlike m ways 
To mandates God now gives to us 

In this, the latter days. 
Although to meet and worship Him 

We shall not yet refrain; 
And from our daily toil must we 

In deed and act abstain, 
Respect for Sunday is the law, 

Profane, if not Divine; 
A step to moral rectitude 

That's righteously sublime. 

THOU SHALT NOT COVET THY NEIGH 
BOR'S house, ETC. 

Grudge not the things that others own, 
Hold thou thyself above it; 

Seek to supply thine earthly needs 
Remember not to covet. 



POEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. 53 

This uniyerse ib yastly wide, 

The needs of man are in it; 
Crave not the thinga that others own, 

Scorn even to begin it, 
Strive to subdue that iuat at bean, 

No mandate shDuldest thou break; 
Your carnal mind should be renewed. 

Such things so as to hate. 

THOU SHALT NOT TAKE THE NAME OF 
THE LORD, THY GOD, IN VAIN, ETC. 

Ungrateful is that human heart, 

A blush to sin and shame; 
When*er you take the name of God, 

In language that's profane. 
ReiBember that His Spirit will, 

Not always strive with you, 
And that the road that leads to God 

Is traveled but by few, 
Cb*an8e then your lips the yile disgrace 

Christ's blood will heal your shame, 
In swelling anthems praise your God, 

Take not His name in vain. 

THOU SHALT NOT BEAR FALSE WIT- 
NESS AGAINST THY NEIGHBOR. 

The liar is a hidden fiend, 

He lives but here below; 
His wanton fangs in slander steeped, 

A vile maltciouB foe. 
The Bible saye, a liar's worse. 

Yes, even than a rogue; 
Sometimes the thief you may lock out 

The liar plies hJs brogue. 



54 POEMS BY ISr. P, KELLEY. 



So Strange the theme when'er we muse 
No reasons come much nigher; 

A reprobate, a lack of sedse 
In him you find the iiar. 

THOU SHALT NOT KILL. 

It is decreed thou shalt not take 

That which thou canst not gtTe; 
An equal right thy fellow man 

Has on this earth to live. 
Vengeance belongs to God alone, 

And He alone should say 
When for the soul ana flesh to part 

Until the judgment div. 
Seek to subdue those horrid thoughts, 

Fall down to God and pray; 
And every time your heart says kill 

Each time you need to pray. 

THOU SHALT NOT COMMIT ADULTRY . 

The marriage bonds a sacred thought 

By Him above ordained; 
The sanctity 'twixt man and wife 

Should never be defamed. 
Lust is a growing evil vile, 

The worse the more 'tis fed : 
It is a great besetting sin. 

To whom by it are led. 
Be miu llul of the wrath of God 

From such thou Khouldest abstain; 
The solemn vows of married life, 

Seek not t-hou to profane. 



POEMS BY K. P. KELLEY. 55 

THOU SHALT NOT STEAL. 

Yon cannot use the gojden rule , 

Whea'^r you stoop to steal, 
For if another takes your means 

V'oii kdow how jou would feel. 
Hower slight the thought conceived 

Make and redeeca this vow: 
Hencei«>rth mj living shall be earned 

Tjy sweat that's of my brow. 
A man whose labor makes his bread 

At night he needs bis rest: 
Disdain his slumbers lo disturb, 

His means do not molest. 

THOU SHALT HAVE NO OTHEK GOBS 
BEFORE ME. 

P.imevai art Thou God on High, 

Uneaqueled is Thy Mignt; 
Incline the soul of mortal man, 

To see Thy prestige right. 
From Alpha to Omega Lord 

No prior God we claim 
Redemption from satanic power 

We seek in Thy dread name. 
To us a soul inspiring thought 

Thy mercy and tjhy love^ 
We look to thee as first as all 

Crown us wilt Thou Above. 

THOU SHALT NOT MAKE UNTO TUEE 
ANY OKAVEN IMAOE, ETC. 

jSO image. Lord, we dare to make. 

I ffC. 



56 POEMS BY N. P, KEI.LEY. 

Nor could W8 Thee Portray; 
Forestall the vain delusive thought. 
In Thine omaicient way. 

Beneath the waves upon the earth, 

And if beyond the sky, 
No human means could make a God, 

But what we would defy. 

We come to Thee In contrite prayer, 

Upon this sin-cursed tide; 
No image fills the aching void, 

For love Divine to guide. 

HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER 

A glowing trait in finite man 

That has no earthly peer; 
Parental homage undeftled, 

In revereatials dear. 

The source from wtience our nurture 
sprang, 
From whence our infant care, 
That wo should love and honor them^ 
'Tis but a duty fare. 

The heart that will not honer them, 

Who we for him a slave. 
Is most a freak in nature^s realms, 

An arrant ruthless knave. 

No earthly love is quite so great 

As this, parental care; 
No eartyji'debt of gratitude 

Mo re.iKred to its heir. 



POEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. 57 

Prayer. 

An idol sacred unto us, 

A boon to know and share, 
ComrDunion with the living God, 

When bowed to him in prayer. 
The Donor of our earthly blise 

Hie Hon to us He gave 
Who gained for man immortal life 

Beyond the solemn sjrave 
Lft thou thine heart for joy to leap, 

Or Satan's rage beware; 
If thou a single mandate breaks 

Repent to God in prayer* 
In carols let thy soul awake, 

Profound thy daily prayer, 
'Tis there you come moat nigh to God 

Tis there, Divinely there. 

To Him thine every need invoke 
In humble contrite prayer 

Sublim9 the soul inspiring thought, 
That God for us should care. 



Faith. 

By faith God has ordained His saints 

In lite to see and know; 
A resting place beyoad the veil 

When we this life forego. 

By faith we know that God is just, 
His mandates can be filled; 



58 POEMS BY N. P, KELLEY. 

When-er the soul seeks righteous food, 
The heart from sin distilled. 

Then let us in abiding taith. 
His will learn to obt^y; 
In hope unceasing be resigned 
Till that imraortal day. 

Around the d-^zzliiig throne of G-od 

By faith's unerring eye, 
Behold the seats reserved to saints 

Where angels prjiise and vie. 



Oratitiifl^ t(i Ooil. 

Profound the thanks I owe to God, 

Among my earthly joys; 
A solace in declining years, 

My precious, blessed boys. 

A boon to life's uneven path, 
Of care and comfort wrought, 

Those ties endear my earthly hoine; 
SjLiblime His Love and thought. 

'Tis one out of a multitude 

Of favors He bestows 
And yet my heart sometimes forgets 

From whom that blessing flows. 

But when I do bethink myself 

It sets my soul ablaze, 
In thrill! iig accents bold and brave. 

I give my God the praise. 



POEMS BY N. P. KELLEY. 



59 



Be thou my daily bread I pray, 

la earth and heaven ray all; 
Strec <;h forthThme Arm to my support 

That I may never fall, 
Then grant, O God, that I may train 

Their minds and hearts to know 
The road that leads unto the Lamb, 

As older they may grow. 




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